“Think, think,” she chastisedherself.
She refused to be daunted by the endless possibilities. She got up and began to pace the small office. She knew herself that passwords were difficult to remember. That’s why so many people made themselves vulnerable choosing their middle names or wedding anniversaries, and used the same password foreverything.
A combination of numbers, letters, upper and lowercase, and symbols were the hardest to crack, and the toughest to remember. At home she’d taped a note to the underside of her keyboard reminding herself that her banking password was her high school locker combination and the initials of her grades one and three teachers. Who but an accountant would remember such things yearslater?
Might Harrison have had his own little reminder system somewhere handy to hiscomputer?
She felt like slapping herself upside the head. She’d never thought of theobvious.
In a flash she crossed back to the computer and flipped up the keyboard. Nothing but the manufacturer’s name and a serial number appeared there. With a mental shrug, Cynthia tried several combinations of the letters and numerals, but gotnothing.
She tapped her fingers on the desktop.Think.She flipped the monitor around, checked underneath and then began searching desk drawers forclues.
Nothing.
She turned her chair this way and that, then got on her hands and knees and checked the undersides of the armrests and seat. While she was on all fours she crawled under thedesk.
“Cynthia?” At the sound of Neville Percivald’s puzzled voice, her head flew up and with a loud thwack banged the underside of thedesk.
“Ow,” she cried, and with tears of pain blurring her vision, she emerged. She could just imagine how she must look, her red clad derriere twitching as she crawled backward. That’s if the tight skirt hadn’t hiked up sohigh—
A gentleman would turn his back. Unfortunately, she could feel Neville’s ungentlemanly gaze glued to her backside like a branding iron. She gave an extra wiggle to her hips to camouflage her actions as she fumbled one of her red beaded earrings out of herear.
By the time she’d dragged herself to her feet, rubbing the bump on her head, she was able to display the jewelry in her other palm. “Dropped an earring,” she saidbreezily.
He nodded. His eyes looked dazed and he was breathing a bit rapidly. It made her feel like the star attraction in some cheesy peepshow.
“It appears Father’s date was more successful than ours the other night,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of the floral boutique that used to be front-officeaccounting.
“Yes. Your stepfather and Agnes seem wellsuited.”
“I was hoping to find out howwell suitedwe might be, the other night.” The door of her office clicked shut behind him, and instinctively she moved closer to her phone. If he tried anything, she could call security, or failing that, bash him with the handset. Her ick antenna was on full alert. It was amazing that he could look so very upright and newsanchorish and be such aperv.
“Yes, well. Some other time.” Like when they were hosting skating parties inhell.
He moved a step closer and her fingers inched nearer the phone. “How abouttonight?”
“Sorry, I already have plans.” Plans that did not include whips, chains, leather or private rooms in a BDSM club. She suppressed a shudder at thethought.
“Tomorrownight?”
If she hadn’t already planned to blow this joint, she’d be planning it right this second. She debated going with the I’m-not-sure-it’s-a-good-idea-to-date-people-at-work routine, but she’d already accepted a date with him once, so that wasout.
She could claim she was planning on entering a nunnery, which, given her recent experiences with men, wasn’t such a bad idea. But she wasn’t Catholic, which made the whole thing sound fishy even to her ownears.
There was always the lesbian angle, but Neville seemed the type who might want to watch—as in the “Ladies Choice” fantasy in the “Erotically Advanced” section ofRaunch.
Double ick tothat.
Instead she sighed and said, “Can I let you knowtomorrow?”
His lips pursed in annoyance. “I suppose so,” he answeredstiffly.
Darn. She should have gone with the nunnery. Now he probably thought she was playing hard to get, when in fact, she planned to beimpossibleto get. She didn’t plan on working here tomorrow—or any otherday.
She was itching to get back to sleuthing. This was her last chance to crack Harrison’s code and prove to…herselfthat she had what it took to be a great undercoveragent.
Marching to the door, she held it open. “Well, thanks for dropping by. I do need to get those month-end reports finishedup.”
